Dragon Rose (22 page)

So many questions I wanted to ask. Since I had had very little luck along those lines, I held my tongue, thinking on the best way to approach this. “Did mages do a lot of that? Cursing people, I mean.”

“If it suited them, or if they were paid well enough to do it. Some claimed to take the high road and not indulge in such dark matters. However, it seemed in the end most of them would cast those sorts of black spells, if it suited them or enough money changed hands.”

“And—and this mage,” I ventured, trying to ignore the chill seeping up through my boots. “Did he cast the curse of his own volition, or was he paid to do it?”

“Oh, entirely of his own volition.” The words sounded brittle enough to break off and shatter in the icy wintry air.

“He must have been very angry with you.”

“I suppose he was.”

“Why?”

“I cannot tell you that.”

I was actually surprised he’d told me as much as he had. Getting him to divulge the reason for the casting of the curse was expecting a bit much. Still, I now knew one thing. Whatever had happened, whatever had gone wrong, it sounded personal somehow.

“We should go in,” he said abruptly. “It’s beginning to snow again. See?” And he lifted one black-clad hand to catch some of the falling flakes, which melted as soon as they touched the leather covering his palm.

“It’s not that bad yet. I like the snow.”

“It can be lovely…if one is safely watching from indoors. And you are only just risen from your sickbed.”

“It wasn’t that kind of sickness,” I pointed out. “I never had a fever. The cold should not matter so much. Besides, surely you don’t really feel the cold. Your hands are always so warm.”

“Oh, I can feel it. It may not affect me the same way it affects you, but that is not to say that I am entirely comfortable in it.”

I gazed up at him, at the tall figure wrapped in its heavy robes. The wind had begun to pick up, and despite my protestations otherwise, I knew I could not stay out here much longer. Not unless I had another layer of clothing to shelter me from the bitter cold.

“Two may be warmer than one,” I said, and before I could lose my nerve I went to him, burrowing into his robes so they spread around me. The wool of his doublet was warm and slightly scratchy against my cheek as I laid my head against his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist.

His breath went in and he went still, so still I wouldn’t have known he still breathed, save for the beating of the heart within his breast. And then his arms were around me, holding me close, as I let the heat from his body warm me through, making it seem as if I stood outside on a hot summer day, and not a raw snowy morning in mid-Novedre.
 

“
Rhianne
…”
 

I didn’t know if he’d said my name aloud or whether I’d just imagined it, so soft were those syllables as they were whispered into the icy air. Perhaps I should have said something as well, but for the moment I only wanted to stay within the protective circle of his arms, only let his warmth keep me safe from the storm. But then I realized how soaking wet my feet were, how the combined weight of both our cloaks still wasn’t enough to keep out every piercing draft.

Very gently, he released his hold on me and stepped back. “We must go in. You should not be out in this.”

Away from the heat of his body, I could feel every searching gust of wind, every sharp prickle as the snowflakes blew past the hood of my cloak and bit my exposed skin. “Y-you may be right,” I stammered.

I thought I heard him mutter something under his breath, but I could not make out the words. He reached for me again. This time, though, he did not draw me against him, but rather lifted me up so my feet were safely out of the ever-drifting snow. Bearing me thus, he carried me through the garden and on into the shelter of the castle.

Something in his strength shocked me. For whatever reason, I had not thought to equate his unnatural form with unnatural might, but he lifted me as if I weighed nothing, and while I was slender enough, I was also tall and well built, and certainly should have constituted something of a burden to a man of normal strength. But Theran was certainly not normal…and most would not call him a man.

He set me down once we were inside and closed the door to the garden behind us. “Better?”
 

I nodded, although it was scarcely warmer inside than it had been outside. “I s-suppose that is enough fresh air for now.”

“I believe so…and I also believe Sar will not be happy when she learns how thoroughly you’ve been chilled. Look,” he added, and pointed at the hem of my gown, which was sodden with snow. My boots likewise had been soaked through. “You must go upstairs and warm yourself at once.”

What I really wanted was to go up to his chambers, to warm myself in front of his fire. But although I had been bold enough to put my arms around him, I didn’t quite have the courage yet to make such a suggestion.

“Very well,” I said. “May I come to you at dinnertime?”

“Of course.”

At least he hadn’t hesitated. That was something.

“Until then,” I told him, as I took care to keep my tone light. Then I hurried away from him and up the stairs, for truly, my feet felt as if they were still standing in the snow, so soaked had my boots and stockings become.

Through great good luck Sar was nowhere to be seen when I regained my chambers, and so I was able to slip off my sodden footwear and set it before the fire. After that I drew on fresh hose and my good indoor shoes, as I had only the one pair of boots.

Some hours remained, of course, until I could go up to Theran’s suite, and oddly enough I had no great inclination to pick up my paintbrush. Perhaps it was only that memories from a dream could not match the reality of the Dragon Lord’s arms around me, the heat of his body against mine. The stranger’s portrait would have to wait.

Restless, I moved from room to room, stopping now and then to gaze out the windows. The storm had struck in earnest, and I could see nothing but a wall of whirling grey-white. Even down in Lirinsholme people must be sheltering indoors, waiting for the blizzard to pass. Oh, we were used to storms here in the north, but this one was fierce, especially for so early in the year.

Something else killed them, Rhianne, and you need to find out what it was.

“Easier said than done,” I remarked irritably to the air. “I am somewhat limited in my resources, you know.”

A knock came at the door then, and Melynne stepped in with my lunch tray. I thanked her absently, and was about to sit down and begin eating when a thought struck me. “Melynne.”

She paused, one hand resting on the door latch. “My lady?”

I regarded her carefully, considering. True, she was young, around my age, and so couldn’t have been in service when the previous Bride lived here. The servant girl had to have heard something from the more senior retainers in the castle, though. Back in Lirinsholme, my family kept only the one servant, but even she gossiped with the other scullery maids and pot boys up and down our street whenever she had the opportunity.
 

“The other Brides,” I began, feeling my way toward the question. “Did they all live in these chambers? Or are there other places in the castle where they had their rooms?”

Melynne’s eyebrows lifted. “Are the rooms not to your liking, my lady? Perhaps Sar—”

“No—no. My rooms are fine. I was just curious.”

“I wasn’t here for any of them, my lady.”

“No, Melynne, I know that. But perhaps one of the other servants has mentioned something?”

Her hesitation was obvious, but I guessed that Melynne did not have the strength of will to avoid answering a direct question put to her by the lady of the castle. My guess was borne out when she replied, “I—I’ve heard that there were two other suites used by the Brides. One was in the same tower as his lordship’s suite, only two floors below. And the other is in the east tower, at the very top. No one’s stayed there for years, though, my lady.”

“I expect it’s because these rooms are so much more comfortable,” I suggested with a smile. No need for her to start wondering why I should be inquiring after such things. “Thank you, Melynne.”

She accepted the dismissal gratefully and made her escape. I sat down in front of the fire with the cold meat pie she’d brought and began pondering my options. Attempting to inspect the rooms in Theran’s tower would be difficult, since I had no idea how often he came and went from his own suite, or whether he roamed that part of the castle when he was not reading or working on his little devices. It seemed the rooms in the east tower were the place for me to look first.

“Look for what, precisely?” I asked myself, in scornful tones that would have done my sister Therella proud. Surely the place had to have been cleaned out and swept from top to bottom before it was closed up. At least, that is what my mother would have done if she had the largesse to lock up an entire suite of rooms because they were no longer needed.
 

Still, better to start there, on the opposite side of the castle from Theran’s chambers. Luckily, I was not much disturbed during the hours between luncheon and supper, as Sar tended to assume—correctly, most of the time—that I was busy painting.
 

The paints would have to wait today, although I did stop in the alcove and take a quick peek down at the painting in its corner hiding place. The stranger’s aquamarine gaze seemed almost disappointed this time, as if he very much wanted me to make just a little more progress today.

Tomorrow
, I promised him, and then shook my head at myself. What on earth difference did it make to the painting whether it was finished at the end of this week or two months hence?

Because two months hence you might not be here to complete it
, said that spiteful voice in my head, the one that sounded a little too much like my sister.

“All the more reason to do some investigating,” I told the room, as I wrapped a woolen scarf around my throat as some protection from the chill I knew I would encounter in the corridors. Questions might be asked if I went forth in my cloak, but no one would question the scarf.

As I left I set the tray with its dirty dishes on the floor outside the door. I had done that in the past when I was working and did not want to be disturbed. It seemed the safest way to keep either Sar or Melynne from entering my rooms while I was gone.

I had never been in the east tower; there had been no reason. However, I knew to get there I must descend the steps from my suite all the way to the great corridor that bisected the ground floor of the castle. I had spied the steps leading up to that other tower on more than one occasion, and because of that I knew they were not locked off or otherwise inaccessible. It might be a little tricky to go all the way down and all the way back up without being seen, but I would have to trust that everyone in the castle would be occupied elsewhere. Certainly if I were one of the servants I’d be doing everything in my power to keep at tasks that required close proximity to one of the keep’s numerous hearths.

The air that greeted me as I left my rooms was so icy I wondered at the wisdom of my errand. But I had decided up on my course of action, and so I would not let mere discomfort dissuade me from it. Wrapping the scarf
 
more tightly about my throat, I hurried down the stairs, trying to ignore the little puffs of white vapor that rose from my mouth and nose in the chill air.

As I had guessed—and hoped—no one was about. I made it to the base of the stairs without incident and then sprinted down the corridor to the east tower’s stairwell. After giving a quick, furtive glance about, I hastened up the stairs.

Of course the abandoned suite had to be located at the very top of the tower. Then again, the exertion helped to keep me warm. This part of the castle clearly had not been lived in for some time—although it was clean enough, and relatively free of cobwebs, I saw no tapestries or paintings, and even the sconces on the walls were bare of candles. I would have to be quick. Getting caught up here in the early dusk of late autumn did not seem very appealing.

At length I reached a landing outside a pair of double doors. Here was a window that let in some wan daylight, along with several icy drafts around its poorly caulked edges. No matter, as I did not intend to linger here.

I put my hand on the door handle, halfway expecting it to be locked. But it gave way easily enough, opening with a slow creak into a space dimly lit by several narrow casements. Like the steps leading to it, the place seemed clean enough, although it smelled faintly of dust and mildew.

Something about the stillness of the place made me want to hold my breath, to tiptoe through it. The furnishings were all covered in some sort of heavy green cloth, but the layout seemed similar to my own chambers—a front room with a divan and several tables, a bedchamber with a large canopied monstrosity and a few more small tables and chairs.
 

The main difference that I could see was a pair of large bookcases in the front room, built into the wall itself on either side of the hearth. Unlike the bookshelves in Theran’s rooms, these were sparsely populated, with only a few lonely volumes left on the lengths of polished oak. I wondered at that, for I would have thought all the books would be collected and brought to the lord of the castle’s chambers. Certainly they seemed too valuable to be left here, moldering. No doubt they were the source of the mildew smell.

Despite that, I found myself drawn to them. I moved closer to the shelf on the right and found nothing more ominous than a history of Farendon, along with a tome on the lives of the kings of the realm, and a geography of the continent.
 

“No wonder they were left here,” I murmured, as I replaced the geography—complete with mouse-eaten bindings—back on its shelf.

The left-hand shelf had a collection of slender volumes, and I found myself hoping that perhaps they were diaries. Surely something so personal would have been removed long ago, though. It turned out I was right, as the thin little books proved to be collections of poetry, and a single bound volume of
Mardrake & Evlyn
, a drama Lindell had once said was quite popular in the capital, although Lirinsholme hosted the traveling players who performed such things only once in my memory, and my parents had forbidden me to go.